


Meet me in the ring

by PeterParkers7EvilExes (antimone_ii)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Gym Sex, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 19:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16793434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimone_ii/pseuds/PeterParkers7EvilExes
Summary: “Jus’ lemme,” Peter slurs, rolling his face into the soft rub of Tony’s gym shorts. Some vague part of Peter’s brain is sleepily wondering if he should be getting embarrassed about this, but the spider-brain that’s been in charge all afternoon only churrs in content and demands that Peter nuzzles his face into the source of all thatcomfortwarmhappysafe.





	Meet me in the ring

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober '18. Prompts: hair-pulling, bruises

The dig of a hard elbow in his spine knocks the wind out of Peter. Sweat, old leather and vinyl flood his nose and his senses ring with overstimulation. He hears the loud buzzing of fluorescent lightbulbs, scuffing of sweat-slicked skin on plastic, and distantly, someone calling his name.

“Yield,” Peter croaks, and the pressure on his back lets up. He heaves for breath and rolls over on the wrestling mat, blinking up at Tony.

“How was that?” Tony asks, tossing a towel over Peter’s face.

Peter sits up with a groan. “Better, I think. I’m still getting way overloaded anytime you come at me. It’s like the spider in me is almost taking in _more_ sensory input when it thinks I’m in danger.”

“Well, you looked better,” Tony says, reaching through the ropes of the ring to grab his water bottle. He leans in the corner and tilts his head back to suck in water and not for the first time, Peter’s eyes linger on his body. He’s dripping with sweat - not unusual for someone who’s been sparring against Spider-Man for the better part of the past hour - but the exercise brings a golden flush to his skin and when he leans back against the ropes, his shapely calves outstretched in a rare moment of relaxation, he looks like Adonis.

“Thanks,” Peter says belatedly. His eyes snap up to Tony’s who’s watching him now, and he flushes red with moritification. “Er, should we go again?”

Tony rolls his neck. “Nah, I’m done,” he says, and Peter tries not to show his disappointment. “You’re beat to hell and I’m just an old man, Pete.”

Peter snorts, watching Tony make his way around the ring to him. “You’re not an _old man_.”

Tony comes to a stop beside him, putting a gentle hand in his hair.

Peter sighs and closes his eyes, letting the exhaustion settle over him. “Thanks for training with me, Tony,” he says quietly. “I know it can’t be fun getting beaten up by your superpowered protege for a whole day.”

“Hey,” Tony whines. His fingers curl in Peter’s hair, petting through the brown curls and gently massaging his scalp. “I landed some nasty blows on you. Look at you, you’re bruised up way worse than I am.”

Peter hums noncommittally and presses his forehead into Tony’s firm thigh. He feels the fingers tighten in his hair and he just lets himself sink into the sensation of _Tony_ , the smell of him, the weight of his fingers in his hair, the accelerated pumping of blood in his veins.

“Pete,” Tony says in a raspy voice.

“Jus’ lemme,” Peter slurs, rolling his face into the soft rub of Tony’s gym shorts. He inhales deep, smells the addictive signature that is Tony - it’s his cologne wrapped up in sweat and something sweeter underneath, Tony’s biological scent, that he’s picked up on before and come to identify with him. Some vague, still alert part of Peter’s brain is sleepily wondering if he should be getting embarrassed about this, but the louder part of him right now, the spider-brain that’s been in charge all afternoon, only churrs in content and demands that Peter nuzzles his face into the source of all that _comfortwarmhappysafe_.

“Pete,” he hears again in a strangled voice from above, and Peter’s dimly aware of something warm and solid rising to meet his cheek. He makes a sleepy questioning noise and burrows deeper against Tony, and Tony repeats again, louder, “ _Pete_!”

“Hmm.” He says, reluctantly lifting his face from where he’s been burying it in Tony’s crotch. He blinks up at Tony, taking in his mentor’s rising erection, and at that point, his rational brain nopes out of the situation, leaving his spider-brain to happily take the reins. He lifts a hand, tugs gently at the hem of Tony’s gym shorts. “Can I?” He asks, looking up at Tony.

“Fuck,” Tony croaks.

He’s magnificent, Peter thinks to himself. “That’s not an answer,” he says while he traces his thumb carefully over the lines of Tony’s abdomen, applying a bit of pressure over each bruise, each scrape he’d left on him today.

Tony hisses through his teeth and Peter sees something like desperate want reflected in them. Tony nods slowly, rasps out, “Yes,” then nods quickly again as if reaffirming his decision.

Peter beams up at Tony. “Yay,” he says quietly, and he unloops the knot of Tony’s shorts, tugging the fabric down to his ankles. He’s got a navy jockstrap on underneath and the spider-brain demands that Peter shove his face right into that perfect hard package barely held back by silky nylon. He obeys.

Tony chokes out a breath but Peter just inhales deep, letting himself float in the sensation while Tony’s fingers twist tight in his hair. He snuffles against the jockstrap and traces his tongue up the front of it, feeling Tony’s cock twitch underneath to his delight. He pushes two fingers underneath the fabric and gently lifts it, and Tony’s cock springs free and smacks him in the cheek obscenely.

Peter’s too invested now to be shy, so he tongues up the length of him, elated to discover that Tony tastes just the way he smells. He strokes his hands up and down Tony’s thighs and ribs and he learns that when he presses the pads of his thumbs against each bruised bit of flesh, Tony will gasp and jerk his hips minutely into Peter, so he makes good use of that knowledge, pinching and teasing while he laves Tony’s cock with his mouth.

At one particularly enthusiastic jerk, Tony yanks on Peter’s hair and he makes in involuntary noise of pain. “Shit, I’m so sorry Pete, fuck–” Tony is babbling, but Peter quickly reaches up and grabs his hand, winding his thick fingers back into his sweat-damp curls.

“Liked it,” he mumbles against Tony’s balls, licking them experimentally and smiling when Tony yelps at the sensation. “Keep pulling.”

Tony swears under his breath, but more importantly, he places his fingers back in his hair, gentler this time as he guides Peter, tugging when he does something Tony likes.

Peter noses at the leaking tip of Tony’s cock, and finally fulfilling nearly every wet dream he’s had in the past five years, he opens his mouth wide and takes Tony down to the balls. That earns him a loud moan and a sharp yank, and Peter hums deep in his throat in approval. He flattens his tongue and bobs his head so he can guide Tony’s cock in and out with ease, and sighs when he tastes Tony’s salty precome with each stroke of his mouth.

Tony’s still clearly trying to be gentle with him, his fingers unwinding whenever the pressure almost becomes just enough, and Peter pulls off reluctantly so he can say, “Fuck my mouth.”

“Pardon?” Tony gasps, his cheeks ruddy with arousal and sweat dripping down his chest.

Peter pats the hand that’s in his hair and says again, “Fuck my mouth. And pull my hair too. I like it like that.” He smiles encouragingly up at Tony and retakes him into his mouth, this time sinking all the way down so he feels Tony hit the back of his throat.

“ _Ahh_ , Peter, _fuck_!” Tony cries, and Peter just hums, relaxing his throat so he can do it again. He reaches up, grips Tony’s fingers within his and curls them, yanking _hard_. Tony finally gets the message and pulls, and Peter rewards him by moaning throatily around his cock.

Tony learns quickly after that, and he tugs his fists through Peter’s curls, massaging his scalp and pulling his hair with each thrust in equal measure.

He tries to warn Peter when he gets close, pulling Peter _away_ from his cock, but Peter’s having none of it. He grips Tony around the hips and swallows him down to the hilt, rubbing his nose into Tony’s well-trimmed pubic hair and shaking his head back and forth to signify that he can’t, will _not_ be parted from Tony’s perfect cock.

“Peter, w- wait, I’m gonna come–” Tony moans, and Peter makes a humming noise as if to say ‘ _obviously_ ’, and Tony groans as he comes in Peter’s mouth, his hips stuttering through his orgasm.

Peter makes a satisfied noise, pulling back just a bit so he can savor the taste on his tongue. It’s bitter and slightly acrid, but completely worth it. He pulls off a bit too soon, smacking his lips, and startles when a last, belated shot of come releases from Tony’s reddened cockhead, smattering across his chin. He beams and sits back on his heels, looking up at Tony with a pleased expression.

Tony crumples to his knees and Peter catches him with a laugh. “Thanks for letting me do that. Sorry if that was a bit, uh, unexpected,” he says.

Tony exhales into Peter’s neck, stroking a calloused hand up and down his spine. “You act like _I_ did _you_ a favor,” he says. “And Jesus, don’t apologize. You’re making me feel even more like an old creep than I already am.”

“Sorry,” Peter says, flushing when Tony pulls back to give him a stern look.

Tony sighs. “We’ll work on it,” he says, pulling their bodies close together and sliding a hand down Peter’s own shorts, fisting his hard cock and grinning at the way his hips jump forward desperately. “But first.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](https://peterparkers7evilexes.tumblr.com/).


End file.
